A Mother's Perspective
by Luckylily
Summary: A oneshot written from Warren Peace's mother's POV about her thoughts on her son. WarrenLayla.


A/N: Ok, this is my first attempt at any Sky High fanfic, but I watched the film for the first time over the weekend, and this just popped into my head. What can I say? Warren Peace is hot! It's just a oneshot but I hope you enjoy!

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Angela Peace sighed as she looked at the clock once again.

He should be back any minute, and once again, she had no idea what to say to her son. Warren had yet again managed to land himself in detention.

Just as she thought things had calmed down and he had his temper under control, something like this had happened.

It had been too good to be true, while she'd still gotten the regular phone call to say that her son was being detained, the number of offences had decreased from vandalism of school property and fights with classmates to those related to missing homework and not paying attention in class.

She had been surprised to hear over a year ago that Warren had become friends with Will Stronghold and a bunch of freshmen in the Hero Support classes.

She hadn't said anything, glad that he was actually making friends and getting into less trouble. He'd even started dating a girl at school; she'd been in the same year as him and had the ability to freeze objects.

Apparently the relationship hadn't lasted that long, or so she'd heard. Her son hadn't actually taken the time to inform her about the girl or introduce them at any point.

No surprise there.

This fight had been one of the most spectacular he'd been involved in though, it didn't even compare to that stunt in the cafeteria with Will Stronghold.

This one had involved melted lockers, broken walls, windows and bones belonging to the transfer student who'd provoked him. More than one student who'd been caught in the corridor had been injured and had been treated for burns.

It was unclear what had started the fight as well, apparently, her son had been standing with some of his friends and the transfer student had walked by and muttered something. Then, all hell had broken loose. Only a few of them knew what had been said, none of the other students had heard it and the one who'd made the comment was unconscious, his friends had remained silent and no-one other than Warren knew what the fight was about.

Crossing the room, she looked out across the front yard and peered down the road. No sight of Warren yet.

Across the street a redheaded girl sat on a bench, her head bent as she fiddled with the edge of her skirt. Every now and then she'd look up the street and bite her lip before looking away.

She was dressed in a denim skirt and a green peasant shirt. A riot of curls surrounded her face and a gold necklace dangled from around her throat. A backpack lay abandoned on the ground beside her feet where a pair of green flip-flops protected them from the hot tarmac heated by the sun.

The girl gave a small start, and stood giving the person approaching an uncertain wave of her hand before walking towards them.

Twisting her head she frowned as she saw that only Warren was walking up the road. Her son gave no indication that he'd seen the girl but he did cross over the road to meet her.

Warren's hair had been pulled back from his face in the style he often wore it in at the Paper Lantern. From where she was standing she could see a cut at his temple, a bruise blossoming along his cheekbone and a split lip. The leather jacket that he had always worn was looking worse for wear with another scrape along its sleeve.

They came to a stop in front of each other and just stood for a moment looking at each other. Neither of them had spoken yet, but it appeared that they didn't need to.

As if by some agreement the red head threw herself into her sons' arms. She tensed expecting her son to push her off and flame up as he did when he lost his temper.

He didn't.

The son she knew didn't like physical contact, even as a child he hadn't been particularly tactile, and as he'd gotten older, hugs and kisses had become rarer and rarer until they didn't exist at all.

Yet there he was, in the broad light of day pulling the girl closer against him, his hand delving into the mass of red hair, while another arm wrapped itself firmly around her slim waist and lifted her up against him so that only her tiptoes remained on the ground. The girls own arms were curled around his neck as she buried her face against his chest.

He said something to the girl in his arms followed by a soft kiss on top of her head.

The sight of them together made her wonder whether the transfer student had insinuated something about the girl in his arms.

Warren had never liked letting go of things that he considered as his, and woe to anyone who tried to take it from him. Just the threat of it had unleashed his temper more than once.

The girls' feet dropped to the tarmac, although Warren kept his arms fast about her waist she leaned back to look him in the eye.

She said something lightly and rolled her eyes at him before leaning up to place a soft on his cheek. Her son moved his face at the last moment, and the kiss landed corner of his mouth where it been hit.

She drew back and blushed, but before she could say anything, Warren had leant down and captured her mouth with his.

Undoubtedly it was their first kiss, shy, tentative, gentle. Words she would never have thought to associate with her surly and aggressive son who far too often lived up to his nickname of 'hot head.'

The girl pulled back reluctantly and smiled up at her son, her face flushing once again, in pleasure this time, not embarrassment. Warren reciprocated with a small smirk of amusement, although there was no malice in it.

This time the girl initiated the kiss. A smile curved her lips as she stretched up against him to reach his mouth.

The kiss was more intimate than the first; neither of them scared of being pushed away and Warren had his hand entwined in that mass of red hair as they pressed closer to each other. The girl's hands were running back and forth across the back of his neck, and Angela watched as her son gave a small shudder and pulled back from the girl's mouth only to bury his lips against her throat.

Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Angela turned away from them and moved back from the window, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water.

It was a little disconcerting to see her son kissing a girl outside their house. To see him so gentle and intimate with a girl she had never met.

A girl she'd probably never meet.

He hadn't even brought any of his friends home, and he'd known them for over a year now.

She was pretty in a natural way, and Angela was mildly amused by the fact she had red hair. It had been her son's favourite colour since ever since he'd been a child.

It was a shame, she'd have liked to met the girl who held such a special place in her son's heart, and she couldn't exactly straight out ask him, getting Warren to talk at times was like getting blood out of a rock.

The front door slammed as Warren entered and made his way into the kitchen.

"Hey Mom, this is Layla."

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A/N: So, what did you think?


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